


The Very, Very New And The Very, Very Old

by OwlQuill



Series: [Strange Magic Canon Expansion] [2]
Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-11 05:01:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7030006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OwlQuill/pseuds/OwlQuill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>King Dagda followed his daughter Marianne, who set out to save her sister from the Bog King, and finds them declaring their love for each other. It is rather unexpected. Everyone involved updates everyone else on recent events, and first threads of a new collaboration between their realms are spun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Debriefing

King Dagda picked himself off the ground and tried to recover at least some of his dignity.

While his older daughter still danced through the air with the Bog King, he concentrated on the younger, who hadn’t noticed him so far. When he called her name, Dawn perked up and let go of Sunny’s hands.

“Daddy!” She made a bee-line for her father and hugged him, almost throwing him off balance. He put his arms around her more gently.

“You’re really unharmed?”

“Yes! Bog is such a sweetie once you get to know him. Did you see how he got me out when his castle collapsed? I’m so glad Marianne finally found someone.”

The babbling, delivered while she hovered in the air in front of him, weaving from side to side in excitement, left Dagda wide-eyed.

Sunny trailed after Dawn hesitantly. He had not forgotten the Fairy King’s ire last night, and was loath to draw attention to himself. But maybe he would be asked for a report.

Seeing the elf, Dawn fluttered over to him and slung her arms around his neck. “And I finally found true love, too! Right under my nose.”

Her beaming face should not leave her father feeling conflicted, but considering what had been going on, his voice went tense with suppressed anger. “Sunny. Is that the love potion?”

Sunny jumped in his skin and raised his hands defensively. “No! No no no no no no no.”

Marianne and Bog had, after their kiss, swirled to the ground slowly, like Autumn leaves drifting on a breeze. When she caught sight of her father and Dawn and Sunny, their body language showing it was not a friendly chat they were having, Marianne flew to join them, followed by the Bog King.

“Whoa, Dad, calm down. Everything is all right.”

“Apart from your army destroying my castle.” Bog’s voice was dry, a sound suggesting crinkling straw. While Dagda gave his two personal guards a sign to be alert, Bog looked around at the mixed crowd. Goblins and elves didn’t seem to mind mingling after the general high spirits of surviving disaster and helping along a public declaration of love. Most of the fairies stayed in their own groups, but not even all of them held themselves apart. “Nobody seems to feel like fighting a war right now, though. Do you want to change that?”

“I just want my daughters back.” Seeing how they were both right there, not being held prisoner or threatened — Bog had his hand on Marianne’s shoulder, but given that she had slung her arm around his waist, it was hard to pretend the gesture to be threatening — King Dagda relaxed with an exasperated sigh. “Well, I would also like to know how we get from a raid with abduction to declarations of love.”

Bog took two more steps so he was not standing downslope from Dagda any more, Marianne following readily. “I would be interested in the full story, too.”

“Where should we start?” Dawn asked.

“Where did that love potion come from in the first place?” Dagda’s question sounded only mildly irritated, but it made Sunny flinch, anyway. He tried to make himself smaller than he was, with not one but two kings glaring at him.

“I… I wanted to use it on Dawn. I’d been in love with her for years, and…” he looked at his feet and shrugged. Almost whispering, he concluded, “I’m sorry.”

Dawn was still behind him, with her arms around his neck. She leaned forward. “I wish you would have just said something.”

“Me, too.”

The Bog King was gnashing his teeth and finally made a sweeping gesture, hand clawed. “And that is all? ‘Sorry’ and everything is forgiven?”

Dawns eyes narrowed, and with a flap of her wings she stood before Sunny. “That’s between him and me. You leave Sunny alone!”

The Sugar Plum Fairy had attached herself to Bog’s shoulder again, and said in a quiet singsong voice, “Young and impetuous.”

Bog straightened up with a start, his face smoothing out too a mere frown. “Well, if the Fairy Kingdom has no laws against using love potion on someone, I guess that is what it is.” He raised his eyebrow at Dagda, wondering if Dawn’s father would just take… this.

The Fairy King pressed his lips together in a thin line. “No, not as such.”

“And we should change that,” Marianne interjected firmly.

“Yes. We will talk about that with the council, but, yes, I agree it’s too dangerous in the wrong hands.” He ignored the Plum Fairy’s indignant “oh!” and continued. “But we wanted to get a full picture of last night.”

Marianne frowned at Sunny, eyes wide and sad. All right, he was sorry now, but she never would have thought their friend capable of planning such a betrayal. “Wherever did you get such an idea?” She tensed, remembering. “Was it me talking about the Sugar Plum Fairy the day before the Spring Ball?”

“No, no. It was at the Spring Ball.” He straightened up at raised a finger, voice growing stronger again. “Roland! He talked me into it. We were both unhappy in love, I could slip through the sentries into the Dark Forest, and we could both use the love potion.” He shrank again. “And I agreed to it, so I’m not shifting blame away, but, um, that’s what happened.”

“He did throw the potion in my face. We all saw it. So he planned that from the start.” Marianne felt stiff and cold. She told herself that Roland was such a smooth-talker she had fallen for him, so she shouldn’t blame Sunny too much for doing the same, but still could not help feeling betrayed. Bog’s hand on her shoulder tensed, his other hand clenching into a fist. He should have taken that elf when he’d offered himself up.

The Fairy King, however, raised his voice first. “Men, put together a patrol to search for Roland. If you find his body, good, if you find him alive, arrest him.” Belatedly he remembered he was not in his own territory. “If you don’t object, Bog King.”

Bog nodded and gave orders himself, for a few goblins to accompany the fairies and to cooperate. The fairy knights turned to their King, who just said, “You heard him.”

“Stuff, I want a head count, and whatever else information you can gather. We’ll have a lot to do once this talk here is finished.”

With a deep breath, he turned to Dagda. “I thought there were no laws against the use of love potion.”

Dagda answered with a dark look. “If the target is the crown princess… and corrupting one of her friends was involved… that does tilt towards a conspiracy to take the throne. High treason, if we can make it stick.”

“Good. I might have some complaints myself to add.” He turned to Sunny. His voice was clipped, anger carefully restrained, mostly because he did not want to upset Dawn. “What I’d like to know is how you got past the goblins I sent out to search the Forest, and into my castle.”

Sunny fidgeted, pulling at his fingers, but he had seen Bog a lot more threatening than right now. “The guards, well, I’m quick, I guess? And an Imp led me to the castle, and to a hole that led in the end directly to the dungeon.”

“The Imp is crazy about my potion. Spreads it around eeeeverywhere, hitting as many people as possible.” Sugar Plum spun like a top, letting blue sparks rain from her fingertips to demonstrate.

Sunny nodded. “He Imp really tried to steal it from me as soon as we were at a safe distance, but I lost him and went to the Spring Dance.” Having fallen into an even storytelling rhythm, Sunny went on without thinking. “I had some trouble opening the bottle to dust Marianne so she’d fall in love with Roland—”

“You went that far?!” Bog lunged forward a step, but Marianne stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Listen, I know from experience. Roland has charisma. He’s persuasive. And manipulative.”

Sunny had pulled down his headband a little, still holding on to it. “I didn’t know what a slimeball he was. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Bog snorted in disgust. “Go on, then. You said you didn’t have the potion when I was at the dance.”

“Um, right, right. That was when the goblins took over the stage, and the Imp had caught up with me and tried to get the bottle. In the scuffle Dawn got hit with the potion, just before the goblins caught her in a sack. The Imp grabbed the bottle and scampered off, some goblins grabbed me and Marianne and everyone. You, you told us your terms, and after you left Marianne told me to get the potion back.”

Marianne nodded. “I made my way to the Dark Forest. And despite me telling him Roland couldn’t be trusted, my father provided him with an army.” She gave the Fairy King a narrow-eyes glare.

“I should have listened to you. He—”

“Is a manipulative, charming bastard.” Marianne grinned without the least trace of humour.

Bog had relaxed, most likely because of Marianne’s closeness, or maybe because she seemed to need someone calm. He gesticulated towards the hole in the ground where his castle had been. “We brought Dawn here, and let her out of the bag in my throne room. I wanted to talk to her.”

“You wanted to scare me.”

Bog nodded. “It did not work.”

Dawn fluttered in a little circle. “He looked like the dreamiest of dreamy guys I’d ever seen right then.” 

“I told you the potion worked!”

“Plum, none of that. Please.” Bog was, for once, more scared than angry.

“Okay, okay.”

After another sigh, Bog added, “She sang.”

“ _Sugarpie, Honeybunch—_ ”

Bog crouched slightly, grimacing. “Yeah. It was awful. I had her put in the dungeon to get her out of the way, and to protect her from my people attacking her in self-defence.”

“Hey!”

“Nothing personal, princess. I suspect goblin ears work a bit differently from yours.”

Dagda reached for Dawn. “My poor child.”

She took his hand. “I wasn’t scared. Just sad that Boggy wasn’t there. And he came to visit me.”

“Her voice carried through most of the castle.”

“And when he noticed trying to scare me didn’t work, he asked nicely. It’s really weird in hindsight, but I’m OK.”

He put an arm around her shoulder protectively, anyway, and turned to Bog. “I still don’t understand why you did not take Sunny when he admitted he had taken the potion, but took one of my daughters.”

Bog took a deep breath, letting it go with a low growl. “Because my goal was to frighten and humiliate your whole country, and you, personally, which would be unlikely to be served by abducting a random elf. I couldn’t even be sure he told the truth, rather than nobly sacrificing himself.”

“But why?”

Bog wiped a clawed hand down his face slowly. Marianne took his other hand, wanting to remind everyone that they were not enemies today. “Dagda. Tell me. Before last night, when was the last time a goblin came into your realm to cause trouble?”

The Fairy King shrank back a little from the Bog King’s glare. “I don’t know?”

“Eight years ago. I know because I personally caught him and brought him back before he could cause any actual trouble, and then I made an example of him. Because the border is the law, and I will have the law respected.” The careful control of his anger slipped a little, and he grew more animated. “But you, either you don’t have your subjects under control, or you don’t care about the Divided Realms Treaty being violated, seeing how hardly a year passes without some fairy or elf showing up in my forest. I’d had it with you and your people acting like goblins could freely be mocked and disrespected.”

While Marianne whispered to Bog trying to calm him down, Dagda tried to think that over without regard to his personal feelings. If goblins being spotted in the Fair Fields were a regular occurrence, would he have blamed their King? It seemed possible, maybe even likely. “I understand. I do not agree with your course of action, but, yes…”

“I don’t—” Bog bit back the rest of the sentence when Marianne squeezed his hand. He did need the Fairy King’s goodwill right now. With the castle destroyed and the armoury buried under rubble, his realm was more vulnerable than at any time in living memory. Besides, he was the father of the woman he loved…

And it was her who spoke up. “You know, if our kingdoms had diplomatic contact, this could have been cleared up before escalating as it did.”

“Maybe we really should…” Dagda hesitated, looking from Marianne to Bog. Bog looked at her hand in his, smiling softly. The Fairy King still could not really believe they were in love.

The Bog King looked at him, his smile not entirely faded, and squeezed Marianne’s hand gently. “It seems necessary.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway. Princess Dawn’s behaviour was… unsettling. I tried to get the Sugar Plum Fairy to give me the antidote, but she refused.”

“I didn’t exactly have any incentive to help you.”

“How about helping the victim?” He pointed at Dawn.

Plum waved it off and blew a raspberry. “She was probably better off with the potion. Less scared, you know.”

Bog raised his hands in surrender. “All right. Well, next change in situation was when Marianne broke through the skylight of my throne room and tried to split my skull.” Dagda found Bog’s fond smile a little unsettling in this context. “We duelled, fighting each other to a standstill. That’s when Dawn woke up and started singing again.”

“Woke up? You could actually sleep?”

“Boggy asked nicely.” Dawn blinked at her father, all innocence.

“It’s the potion,” Marianne said. “She did anything he asked, and even refused to leave with me.”

“It was useful right that moment, but believe me, I wanted that curse lifted as much as Marianne did.”

“That potion is dangerous.”

“Whom are you telling this. My dungeon was full of creatures who had been hit with it.”

Marianne shuddered at the memory. “That was so creepy.”

Dagda cut in. “But why imprison them?”

“I did not want the chaos to spread. Besides, they would have been right there if I managed to convince Plum to make an antidote.”

“Are they…” Dagda looked at the chasm.

“I got them out,” Sunny offered shyly.

“You broke in again?”

“All to the best, Boggy,” the Sugar Plum Fairy chirped. “He got me out of my prison, I got Griselda out of that collapsing heap. You’d be sad if I didn’t.”

“You did?” He looked at her baffled for a moment, but then cleared his throat and schooled his face back to his usual scowl. “I’m still Bog to you, though.”

The Plum fairy rolled hear eyes, leaning back until she faced away from the group, upside down.

Dagda tried to get the conversation back on track. “So, the Imp had the potion at that time and was spreading it. How did it end up with Roland?”

“Pare and I caught the Imp, with help from Lizzy. Um, she fell in love with us because the Imp dusted her, is why she helped us. And then we caught up with the army led by Roland and I gave him the potion. Which was stupid in hindsight, but he was the leader and sent to bring Dawn home, right?”

“Before they arrived here, Marianne and I had been talking to Sugarplum. She stalled for a while, but eventually revealed that the antidote to the love potion is real love.”

“I did not think that would help us, since Dawn… well.” Marianne gave a little shrug. “You know how she is.”

“But it worked, when I figured out I love Sunny!”

The elf lowered his head. “I feel so stupid.”

“You certainly caused a lot of chaos.” Once again Dawn put herself between Sunny and Bog’s withering look.

Marianne raised her voice. “Anyway, Bog and I left the castle to clear our heads, and when we returned, that’s the first time we saw that army.”

She and Bog exchanged a sad, uncomfortable look. What had happened between them, good and bad, was just too personal.

Bog picked up the thread. “I left Marianne behind and flew into the throne room, and confronted Roland there. Since he had the potion, I didn’t attack him, but had Dawn brought up from the dungeon.”

Sunny raised a hand cautiously, since he had something to add. “Roland had gone inside only with his three cronies and left the rest of us standing outside. After a while I couldn’t stand it any more, I just had to try to find Dawn, and went inside through the hole the Imp had shown me. But Dawn was already gone, and the Sugar Plum Fairy said she’d only tell me where she was if I let all of them out.”

Bog snorted, more on principle than from real anger. Being hit with love potion didn’t mean someone deserved death.

Marianne continued. “When Dawn and Bog and I were all in the throne room, Roland wanted to use the love potion on me, and when Bog noticed, he attacked Roland. We both fought him together. That’s when he used Dawn as a shield.”

Dagda gasped. If he wasn’t dead already, Roland was finished.

Bog sneered. “Calling him a worm would be rude towards worms the world over.”

“Well, we stopped him, anyway, but that’s when the castle started shaking.”

“Roland’s cronies did that. They crashed things into the central column in the dungeon. They destroyed it.”

With his arm again around Marianne protectively, Bog added, “With the castle falling to pieces around us, Roland shoved Dawn at me, and grabbed Marianne.”

“He dragged me up and out. I got hold of his sword, and got him tangled up with some falling wood from the highest spire of the castle. I thought I’d got rid of him.”

“I kept Dawn close and tried to find you, but it got too dangerous.”

Sunny blurted out, “And you risked your life to get Dawn out! Everybody saw it! I can’t thank you enough.”

The Bog King was taken aback by enthusiasm from Sunny, of all people, aimed at him, and answered with a shrug and noncommittal grumbling. 

Dawn cut in, “Sunny took care of me, and that’s when I realized I loved him and the potion stopped working.”

“Are you sure it did, entirely?”

“Daddy, Bog is all right. You two really need to talk more.”

“Not today, at least not much,” Bog said. With the relief at not having a war on their hands, and at having survived the collapse of the castle, wearing off, his people were growing tense and worried. They would need to get organised, and it was his duty to take care of that. “I think everybody else saw the rest?”

“But how did you and Marianne fall in love?”

The princess answered with a shrug. “We talked while Plum was stalling, and found we had a lot in common. It just happened.”

Dagda would have to chew on that for a while. But he had seen himself how Roland had thrown the love potion in her face, and it failed to work. He looked at the Sugar Plum Fairy.

“Allll natural, your majesty. Really truly cross my heart.” She giggled.

After another snort, Bog drew himself up to his full height and addressed the Fairy King. “So. What will be next? Will the Fair Fields march on the Dark Forest?”

“No. I never meant for something like this to happen. I just wanted my daughters back.”

Marianne stood on her tiptoes and whispered to Bog. “Don’t worry. He’d have to fight me first.”

Bog grinned briefly. “All right. I’m willing to lay all blame on the individuals who actually caused the damage—” his eyes flicked to Sunny briefly “— particularly Roland, and call it a rogue conspiracy, rather than hostile action by the Fairy Kingdom.”

Dagda nodded formally, almost a slight bow.

“I do expect some say in what happens to him, if he’s alive and captured.”

“That seems fair. Given what a smooth talker he is, the more we can throw at him, the better.” Dagda took a deep breath. “If there is anything we can do to help rebuild…”

“This is beyond rebuilding. We will need to scout for a new place. We will manage.” After a tiny nudge from Marianne, he added, “The offer is appreciated, though. I might come back to it if something comes up. And that… We can’t change the Treaty and open the border just on a word, but I suggest setting up a small border post where messages can be passed off and envoys may be welcomed. At the root gate about halfway between here and your palace?”

“Agreed.”

For the first time in generations, the rulers of the Fair Fields and the Dark Forest shook hands.

Afterwards, Dagda asked, “Which treaty were you referring to, exactly?”

“The Divided Realms Treaty.” Bog looked at him in astonishment. Dagda frowned thoughtfully, like he tried to remember if he’d heard of it, rather than showing recognition. But Bog had more important things to do than giving his fellow king a history lesson. “Digging up our copy will take a while. Check your archives.”

“Yes, yes I will. Ah, we’ll be going, then.” He turned to gather his troops.

Bog leaned close to Marianne. “You have archives, don’t you?”

“Yes. I don’t remember hearing of that treaty, either. Maybe we just named it differently.”

“Maybe.” He sighed. “I have to take care of my people now. I hope you will visit again soon.”

“I’d like to stay. With you. And help. Scouting?”

“Is better done by people who know the area.” He put a finger under her chin and tilted her face up. “I’d like you to stay, but we’ll have to find shelter for a few dozen goblins already. We need to sort ourselves out. And if your people back home see you, they won’t start any rumours about you being kept as a hostage.”

With a sigh, Marianne hugged him tight. “This will need a while to work out.”

“Yes.”

“But we will.”


	2. Getting organised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An over-tired Bog King tries to set too many things at once in motion.

While Dagda gathered his troops, close to the path that they would walk back home, with help from the armoured fairies, Bog went to get the ordered report from Stuff. Griselda was talking to her quietly, but they fell silent when Bog approached.

“None of us who lived in the castle were injured to speak of, no-one missing, either.” Well, that was a relief. “The prisoners, um, they got away in the confusion—”

“Ignore them for now. If they are spotted, bring word back, but leave them alone. Apart from the fairy, she has to go back to the Fair Fields, with or without that toad, I don’t care.”

“—apart from that one?” Stuff pointed at the Sugar Plum Fairy, who was lounging on thin air right behind Bog’s left shoulder.

He stared at her blankly for a second. “Are you planning to follow me around like that?”

“I haven’t decided yet. Now that that prison is under that rubble —” her voice flipped from a sweet singsong to a growl and she got into his face “— maybe I’ll drive you insane!” She drew back again and checked her nails. “Or maybe not. What’re your plans?”

“Working on it,” He snarled, a moment later pulling himself together with an exasperated sigh. “Can you really not provide an antidote for the love potion, to fix the havoc the Imp has caused?”

She stared at him for a long moment, and answered, for a change apparently seriously, “No. It’s the strongest magic I command.” After a look at the destroyed castle, she grinned. “You know what, I think you have enough trouble. Thanks for your hospitality —” she tweaked his nose, which made him twitch back with a disgusted sound “— but I had enough of your dreary realm for a while. Toodles!”

Bog turned his back on her as she zipped West and turned to Stuff. “No-one injured or missing, prisoners gone but that’s all right. Go on.”

“Actually one of Griselda’s guests is missing. We’re not sure if she’d left already or, well…”

“The sweet little fly I introduced to you after you brought in Dawn, remember?”

“No.” Bog pinched the bridge of his nose. “What else?”

“We’re currently down to five dragonflies. Bram expects most of the others to return, they just panicked and fled.”

“And I sent a dozen of our folks who had been awake all through the night to bunk with their family or friends in the neighbourhood and catch some sleep,” Griselda said, “sent one going by dragonfly ‘round to the closest line of outposts to spread the word and check the situation there, and another to Dragroot to fetch Lope. Don’t glare at me like that. I was queen for longer than you have been king so far, son. Anything you’d countermand?”

Bog heaved a sigh. “No, mother. Thank you.” At least that explained why the group gathered around them was smaller than expected. Lope would be useful, seeing how she had done the bulk of work on the most recent map.

He took off for a quick loop abound the heap of rubble that had been their home, and more. Most of the castle had collapsed in on itself, or into it’s recently dry “moat”, but there was danger of part of it sliding into the brown pool nearby. If they wanted a chance of salvaging anything, they would have to hurry.

The armoury would take years to replace. There were some personal effects that would be nice to have back, but if the Fairy King kept his word and did not want war, the biggest problem were the archive and libraries. Copies of royal decrees and records of births and deaths would be kept by the heads of clans, but there had been irreplaceable documents there. That included the treaties with the Fair Fields, as well as the best maps, including one highlighting hollow trees and other natural features that seemed promising for building projects.

Find places to stay for his people, find a new location for his keep, and build it, while going through the rubble of the old one to save what could be saved, search Roland… the love dusted people, well, the’d been dusted in pairs, so at least it wasn’t cases of one person taking advantage of the other, so that could wait. But look for Roland. And the fly, curse his mother’s matchmaking. And scout. And send a letter to Marianne asking her to visit soon. He’d have to find writing implements first. Later. Focus.

“We should send someone to the kobolds to ask a favour. They’re bound to have some experts for dealing with collapsed… things.”

“Good idea.”

Bog wasn’t sure if Griselda was patronising him or not. He had a headache. Probably the elf-chasing and princess-abducting and crown-princess-fighting and lack of sleep catching up with him. He had the feeling he was forgetting something.

Someone cleared his throat behind Bog. When he turned around, he came face to helmet with a fairy in silver armour who promptly bowed and presented the Amber staff, held horizontally on shoulder level, to the Bog King.

Bog controlled a reflex of snatching it back, before he took it, adding "work on rebuilding my reputation" to his mental to do list. He was not doing well.

"Your majesty…"

"What?"

"I am to tell you that the three associates of Roland's are unaccounted for, so—"

"They might cause trouble here."

He nodded. "They were not part of the guard, and their armour is bronze coloured, so there should be no danger of mixups with the search party."

"Good. Anything else?"

"I am to remain here and give the search party word of what happened."

Yes, having one of their own do that was probably better. And since they hadn't returned yet, it was safe to assume they hadn't found a body. "We won't put you up overnight, so you'll have to leave when your fellows give up."

The armoured fairy nodded again.

"Do you have a face you can show people?"

He took off his helmet, revealing pale skin, light hair, and green eyes. Bog instantly disliked him.

"Name?"

"Thorn."

Bog grinned. "Good goblin name."

Thorn did a reasonable job of looking unfazed. "Thank you, sire."

"Stay out of the way."

Thorn bowed and walked away from the goblins, aiming for a fallen branch thin enough to sit on. Meanwhile Bog scanned the crowd of goblins to get a better idea about who was there. He didn't want any fairy around without a chaperone, to avoid the possibility of newcomers attacking them. "Thang, keep him company."

"I?” The short goblin jumped in surprise, but with an “OK, boss!" scampered off happy enough.

Bog turned his head to look at the departing army. The big lizard brought up the rear. Bog just caught the moment when Marianne mounted it, following the example of a big elf and her sister. Bog's and Marianne's eyes met. She waved, shyly, he answered with a solemn nod. There was a flash of purple when the morning sun caught her wings just so, and then Bog was back to business.

“Mother, does that fly have a home? If we can send someone there, we can find out if she went back.”

“Of course! She’s from a family up Lakeside, very nice—”

“Yes, good. Scab!” A beaked goblin came forward. “My mother will tell you about the missing person. You’ll grab a dragonfly and go Lakeside to check if she went home. While you’re there, spread the news.

“All right, everyone.” He pointed at the mushroom at the end of the line. “That includes you. Here’s what people need to know: There are up to five uninvited fairies in our Kingdom. One with green leaf wings needs to be returned unharmed to the Fair Fields. The other four are armoured, armed and possibly dangerous and need to be caught, if possible, and killed if they put up too much of a fight.

“Second, we need to work on a new castle. Anybody who can be spared at their home and can contribute is to do so.”

The Bog King went around and had a few goblins repeat things back. For the most part, it wasn’t too catastrophic. He sent most towards warrens or villages not at a mushroom line, keeping those he knew to be bad at memorisation at the former site of the castle.

“You find a way down there, if you have to, make one. Be careful, do not under any circumstances cause any landslides, don’t get hurt. Wait, Brutus, you stay with my mother.”

“He does?”

“Yes. I’ll feel better knowing you have backup in case those fairies decide to try kidnapping a member of the royal family.”

Griselda rolled her eyes, but raised her hands in surrender, muttering “We’d know where they got the idea.”

“I’ll try to find the search party and hear if they found anything.” It did not seem likely. Anybody who could fly was very hard to track. “And you—”

“I’ll find something useful to do, don’t you worry.” She reached up to pat his arm, grinning. “Don’t try to join the chase, though. You’ll be needed for decisions, if you don’t want to leave them to me.” 

Bog took off, trying not to let show that it was a strain. He forced himself to not even glance at the rubble below, and flew on into the surrounding forest, taking to a search pattern. He didn’t expect the fairies to be hard to spot.

He was right. He soon spotted light glancing off bright metal and wings. A pair of the armoured fairies, travelling in the open air between canopy and the undergrowth, one of them carrying a small, beaked goblin on his shoulders.

The Bog King hailed them.

“Any sign of the vermin you’re chasing?”

“None here. We split up into four groups to cover more ground.”

Bog nodded. The more time passed, the more area to cover, and they were too few. Maybe they’d get lucky - Roland hadn’t exactly seemed like the deepest well of cunning… but then, he had come up with a plan to destroy the Bog Castle.

“How long are you planning to search?”

“We’ll need to get back about noon, or we won’t be any good if we find him. Sire, is the King still—”

“Took his family and most of his army home. He left one behind to give you the news.”

“Thank you.”

“Go on.”

And they went.

Bog considered briefly if he should check on the other three teams, but then realised if that had been his intention, he should have asked in which directions they spread.

Shaking his head about himself, he headed back to where his home no longer stood.

The Bog King passed on the information to Thorn, and next found himself ambushed by his mother. “I’ve found someone to put you up for a sleep. The Reepers have enough room.”

“Mother, there is too much to do.”

“You haven’t slept since yesterday morning. You will need to make important decisions soon, and should at least have a fighting chance at thinking clearly. Lope hasn’t arrived yet, and by the way, have you noticed you are favouring your arm?”

Bog tried glaring at her, even though she usually was immune, but it made his headache spike. Maybe she did have a point.

“All right. What about you?”

“I got some sleep. Maybe I’ll nap a bit, but I’ll keep the watchfires burning.”

“Wake me in case—”

“Yes, of course, if a royal decision is needed or something, I’ll wake you. Now shoo. You know the way?”

He did. Two hills over, a small family of brownies had dug their home into the earth. One of them was waiting in front of the door to welcome him. The outside of the door, like the hillside surrounding it, was covered in a thick layer of moss.

To get inside, Bog had to practically bend double. The ceiling inside was not quite so bad, but still low enough he could count himself lucky he did not mind hunching over for a while.

The brownie who had welcomed him joined his family gathered in the main room of their home. There were six adults of two or three generations, and a gaggle of children, some of whom hid behind their elders. Most of them bowed, and, fearing some stilted welcome speech, Bog nodded and gestured for them to straighten up. He carefully and, he hoped, subtly maneuvered his staff so it was halfway hidden behind him.

“I don’t want to keep you, I just need a place to sleep.”

One of the grown brownies stepped forward and gestured for him to follow them, but also asked, “What can we do to help with the castle?”

“I’m sure rope will be useful.”

His host grinned broadly. It was something they were good at, and they could stay safely inside.

Bog was led to another door to crouch through and huffed a laugh. It was a storage room. Skeins of fibre, each bigger than a brownie, were laid out alone the back wall. There were indeed enough to form a bed longer than he was tall.

After his host had left, he used the provided glowbug lamp to inspect the closest walls. The outer wall was compacted earth, the inner tidy wooden planks. He rapped on one of the support beams in the outer wall. It sounded solid enough. He needed sleep, and in a tree hole open to the outside he would at best get a nap, alert to noises of anyone approaching, so he should be glad he was inside, safe. The fact that his mind tried to fill the underground silence with the dull rumble of his collapsing castle was merely annoying.

Bog spent a few more moments looking at and touching the support beams holding up the ceiling before he laid his staff on the ground and himself on the makeshift cot. 

Counting breaths to make it easier to put off all planning and worrying until later, he soon fell asleep.


	3. Rest and Reports

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fairy royal family returns home. Marianne has to deal with gaslighting. Again.

As soon as the army of fairies and elves was marching in a fashion as orderly as the Dark Forest allowed, King Dagda ordered his palanquin to be carried next to the lizard carrying his daughters, Sunny, and Pare.

Pare’s deep voice spun a bubble of gentle sound around them, singing nonsense syllables to the slowed-down melody of _Crazy Little Thing Called Love_ , and Sunny did not move, besides breathing.

The soldiers carrying the palanquin had to dodge high-arching exposed roots, or low-hanging branches, making it difficult for Dagda to talk to his daughters as he had wanted.

“Dawn? Marianne?”

When he next came close, Dawn held a finger to her lips and went “Shh”. Marianne had her arms slung around Dawn’s waist, her head resting on Dawn’s shoulder, eyes closed, breath calm. She sighed when the lizard appeared to stumble.

Pare said in a low voice that nonetheless carried well, “Uh, Sire. I think the fluttering is making Lizzie skittish.”

Dagda frowned at him. “I thought you have it under control?”

“Well, she likes us. Sunny and me.”

The big lizard turned its head and stretched its neck, as if to reach for the moth-winged fairies flying next to her.

“We’ll fly further ahead, then” With another look at Marianne, he added, “Getting to the border will take an hour or two. Might as well make it quiet time.”

***

“Marianne? Marianne, wake up for a few minutes!”

“Mrgl?” It was horrible, being the sister of a morning person. Wait, a few minutes? What? Oh, right. Apparently it was possible to fall asleep while riding a lizard. Who’d have thought. “I’m OK, I’m awake. Temp’rally.”

They were at the entrance to the Fairy Palace. When Dawn dismounted by fluttering upwards, Marianne could see Sunny leaning against Pare’s broad back, out like a light. She swung her right leg around and slid down the lizard’s side, bending her legs to catch the impact.

“Marianne, are you really all right?” Dagda approached her on his own two feet. “I think you should see a physician, just to be sure.”

“Dad, I’m not even bruised. All I need is sleep. Dawn?”

“I’m good.” She floated upside down between her family and the elves on Lizzie’s back. “What about Sunny?”

“Pare will take him home before taking that… lizard somewhere safe.”

“Daddy, why can’t he stay here? We’ve got enough room.”

“No, Dawn, it’s—” Dagda couldn’t well admit he did not want her and Sunny near each other. “It’s better for him to wake up somewhere familiar after all this, this madness, I’m sure.”

With a sad frown, Dawn fluttered up and looked in Sunny’s face from a short distance away. He was passed out. She turned to Pare, who was smiling, and gave him a sunny smile in return, followed by a quick peck on his cheek. “Thanks for your help.”

Dawn caught up with Marianne, who had started trudging towards her quarters, and took her arm. It was a sign of how exhausted the elder sister was that she didn’t react with “I can take care of myself!” Marianne fell on her bed, sweaty and dusty and grimy as she was.

***

Marianne slept through most of the day. By the time she had cleaned up and dressed, the sunlight had started to turn golden. While she had a supper that felt like breakfast with Dawn, she daydreamed about sharing a relaxed meal with Bog. They could just talk. Nibbling on the snacks his mother had readied to fuel their brains into trying to crack that “riddle” of Sugar Plum had not been pleasant. 

It distracted her from Dawn’s unusual behaviour until they were finished. 

“I’m not used to seeing you so quiet.”

“Um, well, you still seemed tired? And also, Daddy said before talking about… stuff with anyone else, you should sit down with a clerk who’ll write down everything you remember. Before the memory gets muddled with time, I guess.”

“Ah. And you?” 

“Did that already. It was tedious, but he sort of has a point?”

“I guess.”

Minutes later, Marianne followed one of her handmaidens to an office, where a clerk was waiting for her. He was a pale-skinned fairy with light brown hair, dark brown eyes, and wings marbled in grey, brown, black, and white.

He closed the ledger he had been busying himself with and stood up to bow. “Your Royal Highness, thank you for seeing me promptly. My name is Reuben. It’s an honour to be entrusted with such an important task.”

“Yes, well.” It wasn’t like it had been her choice. Marianne sat down. “What is this report going to be used for?”

“If Sir Roland is brought in, they will be used in the trial. It’s thought that the sooner—”

“—events are recorded, the fresher the memory is, yes,” Marianne interrupted. He set out a second cup and poured tea for her. “So, how are we going to go about this? Do I just talk, or do you have questions?”

“Let’s start with questions; I’d appreciate if you would answer them in detail, though.” He set a sheaf of paper on his desk and righted his quill and inkwell. “First, let’s get a bit of background. How long have you known Sunny the elf, and what was your relationship like?”

It surprised Marianne they would branch out that far, but she answered easily. “We — that is, Sunny, Dawn, and myself, have been friends since we were children. He has always been closer to Dawn. They are of an age.”

Reuben took his notes and asked more questions, and they soon fell into a natural rhythm. It stuttered, however, when they reached the events in the Bog King’s castle, and Reuben asked clarifying questions.

“So the Bog King took advantage of the… artificial infatuation of your sister?”

“Technically yes? He asked her to not sing, and to stay in her cell.”

“It certainly was convenient for him.”

“I had the impression he hated it. He wanted the Sugar Plum Fairy to give him an antidote, but she refused.”

“So he told you.”

Frustrated by what Reuben’s tone seemed to imply, Marianne got up and started pacing. “Not just that. I saw his face. I talked to the Sugar Plum Fairy and she did refuse until I…”

Marianne’s eyes had fallen on the paper and caught the word “manipulated” in the last line, which she certainly had not used recently. 

“Until you what?”

She snatched the top sheet, causing Reuben to draw a line down the rest of its length.

“Princess, what—”

“Shut up.” Her eyes widened with outrage, fury heating her guts. “‘The Bog King used Princess Marianne’s feelings for her sister to manipulate her’? I never said such a thing!” It was bad enough he was trying to smear Bog, but putting the words into her mouth left her barely able to breathe.

“Please, your Highness… maybe you need a bit more rest.” He collected the sheets he had written on in a stack, and tapped it on his desk to line up the edges. “It seems you are not seeing events clearly, the shock, the fear, it’s understandable you’re confused.”

_She’s overreacting. It was just a misunderstanding._

The memory of a whole year of whispers behind her back, of people up to and including her father buying Roland’s lies, brought Marianne’s fury to a boil. She grabbed the “report” Reuben had written with a quick movement, then pulled it out of his hands slowly, not caring her death-grip wrinkled the paper. Without taking her eyes off his face, she added the last sheet.

“Princess, please be reasonable.” He leaned back just a little.

Marianne snarled as a flap of her wings catapulted her onto his desk. She crouched to grab his collar and pull him close enough their noses almost touched. Her voice was low and rough with barely contained anger. “Now listen carefully, Reuben. Make sure you hear what I say, not what you think I should mean. If you spread those lies you concocted here —” she raised the sheaf of papers “— I will have your head.” After a deep breath, she amended, “Maybe I’ll have to be content with making it figurative, and only end your career, but if I can find a way, I will literally have your head on a stick, and put it on display. I swear by my mother’s ashes and the echo of her voice that I will make you regret it, so keep your mouth shut!”

She saw the fear in his eyes, and took that as answer enough. Without another look at him, she pushed him down onto his chair and flew to the door. Her father had to be told. They would have to check anything else written down, in case other clerks had put their own spin on things. Marianne walked through the lamp-lit halls to his quarters to give herself time to skim what Reuben had fabricated, and to give her anger time to cool. Maybe. It wasn’t easy with things like reading on the first page of “her” report, “Sunny the elf had started trying to influence Princess Dawn when she was still very young”.

***  
Rapping her knuckles against the door to her father’s quarters didn’t lead to a reaction. Briefly wishing she had her sword — using the pommel to knock would certainly be loud enough — she pounded the metal-lined stone with a fist.

After more time than she would have liked, the door opened a crack, and one of her father’s personal servants peeked out. “Princess Marianne? It is— WHOA”

She pulled the door open and swept into the salon. “I need to talk to my father. Now!”

After gaping for a moment and thinking better of trying to talk her into coming back in the morning, the servant bowed. “Yes, I will get him. It might take a little time.”

Better that than having her burst through more doors.

Marianne stayed where she was, spine rigid and upright, using the time to forge her anger into something more precise and useful.

Dagda appeared after a few minutes, wearing a green dressing gown, and a line an edge of a petal had left on his cheek. He sat down on a chair next to a small, round table, and pointed Marianne at another chair opposite him. “I understand this is important.”

Marianne threw the papers down on the table and remained standing. “Father.” She took a deep breath. “Do you still believe Roland?”

He blinked up at her in bewilderment. “What?”

“Do you still believe Roland that I’m a hysteric little girl whose word and judgment can’t be trusted, like you did throughout the past year?”

The King winced guiltily. “I’m sorry, Marianne. I should have believed you, and not him.”

“Good. Because the same thing is happening again. That clerk you had write down ‘my’ version of events put words in my mouth, because I obviously was not seeing things clearly, despite me being there, while he wasn’t.” She flumped into the free chair and gestured at the stack of paper. “This _thing_ claims Sunny planned to get Dawn under his control since they were seven, to start with. Ridiculous, and nothing I ever said! We need to check everything that’s been written down with the people who supposedly said it. How much is it, so far?”

“I’m not sure. Reuben talked to Dawn this morning, and Victor was sent to question Sunny, and the, um, army that Roland led, but I’m not sure how far he got.”

“OK. I’ll go talk to Dawn.” 

Dagda got up immediately after Marianne and caught her by the wrist. “Wait.” When she glared at him he didn’t let go, but shifted his grip to hold her hand. “You’re right that this is important. And we will look into it carefully tomorrow morning. It is, however, not so urgent more people need to be woken in the middle of the night.”

“Ah. Sorry.” Marianne rubbed the back of her neck with her free hand. “I’m not sure how long I was busy with Reuben.”

“It’s all right, but please try to get some more rest before the morning.” He handed her the sheaf of paper she’d brought with her. “If you really can’t, mark up things he put in or twisted. All right?”

“OK. Thanks, Dad.” She gave him a smile before leaving, feeling a lot better after hearing he had her back this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reuben's wings are that of the moth species _habrosyne scripta_.
> 
> Comments, including constructive criticism or typo-spotting, are always appreciated. :)


	4. Delegation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People show up. Work gets started.

When Bog awoke, the remnants of a dream fluttered away from him, shards of blue and purple. It was enough to tell him whom he had been dreaming of. Worse, he had a song running through his mind. One that the younger princess had sung.

_I can’t liiiive, if living is without you._

It was embarrassing. He wasn’t sixteen any more; he should not be affected that much.

The song had its claws deeply embedded in his mind, so since he really didn’t want to be caught humming it under his breath, Bog decided to take a few minutes to replace it with something else.

Everything he could think of including the words “missing you” was similarly morose. A surge of pessimism — last night was a crazy fluke, this will never work out — brought to mind _Poison_ , but to his relief his gut feeling protested. It fit them as badly as _Fools Rush In_. He had sung that for her only because he could not think of anything else. Nervous as he had been, and with his lack of practice with love songs, he had fallen back on a classic that everybody knew.

When his mind got away from him and attempted to substitute Marianne’s name into _Cecilia_ , he groaned and buried his heating face in his arms.

Preposterous. Much too fast, even if she didn’t change her opinion. And Marianne wouldn’t act like that, not after her experience with Roland. And her home was not the Dark Forest. And Bog _didn’t even have a bedroom_.

Then, his mental search snagged on something else.

_If I could only reach you  
If I could make you smile_

The song was great, but overpowering.

After a few deep breaths, what Bog found was mostly a repetition of the words “midnight blue”. He wasn’t sure if he had heard the song long ago and forgot parts, or if that was a new one growing, but from what he heard, it would serve.

Hoping that his blush had faded, the Bog got up.

There were fewer brownies in the main room than when they welcomed him, but one of the adults told him it was around midday, and asked if he would share their meal. Bog hesitated over a feeling that that would be stalling, but reason prevailed. It wouldn’t do anybody any good if he was even more snappish than usual because he was hungry.

So the King of the Dark Forest sat cross-legged on the ground and laid the Amber Staff behind him. A few children, the exact number hard to determine, chased each other around and under the table. They gave their guest a wide berth and some curious looks. 

Bog’s wings twitched a little when he heard two of them whispering behind them, but he also caught a metallic sound, and the word “copper”. They would hardly be able to damage the staff, so he pretended he did not notice, merely settled his hands on the table in a different position. One of the adults caught his eye, and they exchanged a wry smile. 

He was their king in general, and their guest right now, and he enjoyed their little bubble of peace.

After sharing their grain-and-mushrooms soup and giving his thanks, Bog made for the ruins again, Midnight Blue a faint thrum at the back of his mind.

***

Despite the brighter light, there were more goblins busy around the ruins. Some of the volunteers had brought tools; for one thing, a fallen bough had been split and its top evened out to serve as a table. Near it, Bog spotted Brutus and his mother, along with a long-legged, frog-like goblin with relatively light green skin and blue markings edged with white. So Lope had arrived, and she had brought a messenger bag and a large scroll case with her.

Bog alighted next to the trio.

“Lope.”

“My King. So we’ve stopped putting off the move.” She lowered her chin and drew back a little, not sure if she should have bitten her tongue instead.

He gave a little snort. “You could say that.” He turned to Griselda. “Anything happened I should know about?”

“Bram’s up to fifteen dragonflies, last time I heard. There’s a team trying to secure the edge of the rubble heap closest to the water. Edgar and Amanita have taken over organising getting everyone fed. Nothing else new.”

“That’s Old Edgar and Yellow Spot Amanita, yes? Good.”

Lope had meanwhile spread a map of the Dark Forest on the makeshift table. It was not very detailed, but had some places marked and annotated in bright purple berry ink. “This is the one you need, right?” Bog hadn’t even finished nodding when she went on, “Since it was the fairies who did this, maybe we should consider moving further East. There is even a rocky cave that seems suitable. Solid, roomy, defensible…” She pointed to a mark near the edge of the map.

Bog grimaced. “Very close to the border with the kobolds’ lands. It has not been that long since the last war; I don’t want to risk our good relations.”

Lope raised her eyebrows. “We got different definitions of ‘not that long’. That was three generations ago.”

“Still in living memory, if you talk to the elders. Anyway, it wasn’t ‘the fairies’, it was a rogue… individual.” Hopefully not a faction. “Their king actually offered to send help to make good the damage.” He pinched his lips and looked over his shoulder to the hole that held what had been his home. “Anyway, I’d prefer something nearby, to make for less of a change, and to make transporting whatever we can salvage easier.”

Lope’s scaly brows drew together, and she looked from the map to her king and back. “Sire, are you certain such a short-term benefit is an important factor?”

“If something further away is considerably better suited, that’d override it, but all else being equal…” He shrugged. 

Since the rock cave had been declared out of bounds, this narrowed down the choices to the closest three: a mostly-dead willow; a hill with a stone-lined, hollow centre; and an oak who’d lost a bough to a thunderstorm years ago and now was partly decayed, starting to hollow. The hill had been recently discovered, when a small warren dug into the hillside had tried to expand, and Bog had not seen it for himself yet.

“Do we know the danger of floods for all three?”

“The willow is in the wettest area, naturally. Outpost seven had an eye on the oak this spring, and it didn’t seem like there’d be a problem. The hill, I don’t know for sure, but well, it’s a hill. The warren there wanted to explore the insides a bit and they might know by now.”

“All right. Are you up to picking teams to get a detailed view of the area around the sites? It’s all a bit chaotic right now…”

“Dragonflies?”

Bog nodded.

“I’ll work with Bram, then. Can do.”

“Good.”

Lope lifted her messenger bag from the ground. “I brought paper and ink. Thought there might not have been time getting that kind of stuff out.”

“Good thinking. We’ll need a head count and responsibilities and shifts…”

“I’ll get started on that,” Griselda’s rough voice cut in.

“Are you sure—”

“Oh, shush. Who of us was knee-high to a grasshopper last time a big move had to be organised in a hurry?”

“We both were,” Bog answered dryly, and too distracted to think better of it, added, “I’ve grown.”

“Bog—”

At her menacing tone, Bog raised his hands in surrender. “You’re right, not the point, thanks for volunteering, you are the best for the job right now. Remember to pick one or two lieutenants for yourself, you need to sleep at some point, too.”

Griselda scowled up at him for a moment longer.

“Sorry.”

“Right.”

Since Griselda would be staying where she was for a while yet, Bog left the Amber Staff with her, while he went around the site to get his own impression of the situation.

Lope watched him go. “Feels like Summer came early.”

Griselda didn’t look up from unpacking the writing supplies Lope had brought, but gave an inquisitive hum.

“He’s not as snappish as he’s usually this time of year. You’d think with what happened, he’d be in an even fouler mood.”

With a wide grin, Griselda answered, “Aaaaah, that is because you don’t know everything that happened.” It would be a while before she’d get tired of telling people of her son’s lady-love, and she gladly gave Lope a short version.

***

Bog was lending a hand in the construction of temporary shelter when a dragonfly carrying two goblin approached the site. One of them looked entirely unfamiliar. After finishing tying the wraps on a corner of the framework, Bog turned to them.

“Sire, the kobolds agreed to help. They sent Pirmin here ahead.” She gestured at the new arrival, a skinny, short goblin with gray-green skin and hooded eyes.

“Pirmin. Thank you for coming.” Bog nodded, and Pirmin returned the gesture in kind.

“Bog King. When the King Under The Mountain heard that the archives were at stake, he agreed immediately. There will be a work gang with suitable experience coming, but it will take two or three days. A dragonfly can’t really handle a kobold.” His laugh was dry, but sounded genuinely amused.

Bog briefly gnashed his teeth. Things were going well, under the circumstances, but if the archives were truly destroyed under his rule, nothing could make it right again. “We’ll have to hope the weather holds. Why are you here?”

“Because I have some experience — digging out surface settlements from rockslides and such — and should be able to advise you.”

“We’re grateful for any help. So far we have— wait, do you want to get a picture of the situation now, or do you need rest or refreshment first?”

“Let’s have a look at the damage.”

Bog walked Pirmin to the edge of the pit, tempering his stride for the old goblin. “We’re still working on a path down there. It’s going slow because I gave orders to be very careful about not causing landslides.” When they reached the edge, the team digging a path along the edge of the pit visible to the right, he pointed at the brown pond to the left. “I’m worried about things sliding into the water.”

Pirmin leaned forward carefully and looked almost straight down. “There’s no water under there?”

“Earlier in the season there would have been, but the weather has been dry recently. But if it rains more than a little, here or closer to the source of the rill -” he pointed towards the dry inlet that in the right weather had fed the moat “- well, as I said, we need to hope the weather holds awhile.”

Tugging on his earlobe, Pirmin took in the landscape. “I’d like to secure the edge against the water with something to catch a, a woodslide. But planting poles is risky because of the vibration…”

Bog nodded, arms crossed. The thought had occurred to him, too.

“Wood, this is all wood, not stone, right? If one can get to one of the big pieces, driving in hooks is not that difficult?”

“Yes. If anything, the hooks ripping out again is the bigger problem.” He remembered Roland hitting him hard enough to drive his back into the wall. The place had been more rotten than he had admitted to himself.

“It’s doable. What we need is to put something across the chasm. A straight bough, or the trunk of a young tree. So we can hang a pulley from it, and use that to lift the bigger pieces off. I need a closer look, so we can decide where to start, so that if something slips, it hopefully slips to the dry side. And I need to know where the archives were situated, to try to make a guess where the documents are now.”

Bog did his best trying to explain the layout of the castle, gesturing expansively. His wings and the armour plates on his shoulders spread involuntarily as a chill ran down his back when he realised he was pointing at this air, where the parts he was describing had been. 

“I did not see it collapse. Maybe some of the people who were outside at the time might have useful observations.”

Pirmin needed a moment to process that. “You were _inside_?”

“Barely.” A flat look laid that topic to rest. 

After clearing his throat, Pirmin said, “Could someone with a dragonfly take me down there? I’d like a closer look.”

Bog flagged down a goblin who seemed to be between tasks and told them to take Pirmin to Bram, or whichever of his lieutenants was awake right now.

Alone for a moment, Bog took some calming breaths, and resisted the urge to rub his smarting arm. There was more than enough to do.

He settled on finding that head count, and finding out if any master builder was present. If not, he’d have to get the word out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs quoted or referenced in this chapter:
> 
> “Without you” by Badfinger, 1970 (apparently the chorus was written for a woman named Marianne, funnily enough)  
> “Poison” by Alice Cooper, 1989  
> “Fools Rush In” has many versions; the lyrics were originally written by Johnny Mercer in 1940  
> “Cecilia” by Simon & Garfunkel, 1970  
> “Breakthru” by Queen, 1989  
> “Midnight Blue” by Lou Gramm, 1987


	5. Check-in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The princesses take investigations into the tampering with their testimonies in hand personally. Dawn takes the opportunity to visit Sunny.

On a usual morning, Dawn would have would have been the first to arrive at the room where the royal family liked to take their meals, so she was surprised finding Marianne already there.

Since natural light entered the room only through cracks in the ceiling, the room was lit with candle lanterns, flames safely behind panes of glass or crystal. Right now, all of them were placed on a side table which was covered in papers. Marianne was reading, muttering, and combing her hair with her fingers in a nervous gesture.

“Good morning?”

Dawn’s greeting made Marianne jump. “Oh, hi! Sorry, didn’t hear you come in.”

“What’s the matter?” Marianne’s makeup was faded, but in turn the whites of her eyes were tinted pink. Between that and her erratic movements, Dawn was pretty sure Marianne had not slept.

“Trouble,” Marianne snarled, gaze straying back to the paperwork. “Did you read what Reuben wrote you said?”

“No?” Dawn approached, peering at the papers, but too far away still to read, only noted the handwriting was too neat to be Marianne’s, excepting scrawls and notes in the margins added with blue ink to the brown.

“You should. That slimy little parasite wrote his own story instead of what I told him, trying to smear Sunny. I mean, what he did was pretty dirty, but he’s not a villain…” “Oh no.” Dawn fluttered back a step, clasping her hands in front of her. “Why would he do that?” “I’d like to know. I’d like to go and—” Marianne shook her head, slumping in her seat a little. “Sorry I just dumped that on you. I should have waited until after you had breakfast. Dad said we would take care of it and soon, it’s not like there was a murderous mob waiting or something, and anyway—” Floating over to Marianne, Dawn said, “Sis, I think you could do with a break, too.” She put a hand on Marianne’s arm, who covered it with her own. Her smile was tired, but seemed genuine. “Yeah. Let’s see if there’s any tea ready already.” *** When their father appeared, Dawn took control of the conversation, keeping it to general topics like the weather and the changing flower season. After a worried look at Marianne’s late-night looks, Dagda followed Dawn’s example. Marianne was monosyllabic, but showed no sign or irritation.

However, as soon as Dagda pushed back his plate, Dawn leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, and asked, “So, there is something weird going on with our testimony?”

Dagda nodded. Marianne gave both of them an overview of the subtle spin and outright lies she had found, falling into an irritated drawl, but holding on to her temper.

Dawn couldn’t help some indignant noises and balling her fists, but did not interrupt. Only when Marianne was finished, she looked from her to her father and back, her eyes narrowed with anger and pain. “Why would he do that? What has Sunny ever done to him?”

“That’s what we need to find out.” Dagda, his brow creased, spoke slowly and calmly. “I have had him put under house arrest. As Marianne said, everything that was written down in this matter needs to be checked first, to determine how far the manipulation goes. The records should be in my study by now.”

“OK,” said Marianne. “I’ll get Sunny’s and go talk to him, meanwhile Dawn can check hers.” She pushed herself up with one hand on the table edge, shoving her chair back so suddenly it teetered just short of tipping over for a moment.

“No.” When Marianne looked at her, Dawn’s voice went softer, and she pouted just a little. “I want to talk to Sunny, too. I have a right.” With a suspiciously innocent smile, she added, “How about you have a nap, or at least a lie-down, while I read, and we go together afterwards?”

Marianne narrowed her eyes and pointed an accusatory finger at Dawn. It tapped the air a few times before she smirked. “Deal.”

Dagda breathed a sigh of relief, and agreed to the plan.

“Shouldn’t I tell you the details of what Reuben fabricated?”

“You annotated it? Good, I’ll read it first and ask questions later, if needed.”

*** Marianne retreated to Dawn’s room, assuming her sister would bring her reading there. It was similar to her own, though instead of windows it still had narrow cracks whose insides had been carefully gilded so light was reflected into the room, but not to the outside. Half a dozen pixies swarmed her and started fussing with her hair and clothes. Columbine, Fuchsia and Polly were here, too. When they were not accompanying “their” respective princess, or busy with a particular task, the pixies liked to swarm.

Bearing her pixies’ tutting without complaint, Marianne fell face-first onto Dawn’s bed - a rose, but yellow, and with a lighter smell than Marianne’s - and, lulled by at least two of the pixies working their hands through the hair at the nape of her neck, let the others tug off her boots. Taking care of their fairies was was pixies did. They didn’t do it to make the one being taken care of feel small. This was company Marianne could relax in.

* * *

It felt odd for Dawn to settle down with her father in his study. Not something they would usually do. Sure, she had had her share of lessons on how to be a princess, and they didn’t consist of dancing and deportment only, but this was serious.

How serious she only realised after she started reading. “We made friends” became “he wormed his way into my trust”. As it went on and on, Dawn grew pale, her hands shaking. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to cry or scream with rage, kept teetering on the edge until she burst out, “How could he! Why would he? And how the bloody blazes did he think he’d get away with it!?”

Dagda put down the records of Sunny’s testimony on his desk and sat down at the table Dawn had claimed. He took her right hand, while she wiped water from her eyes with the left. “Oh, Dawn.”

“Sorry about the language.”

“You’re upset. It’s all right. Reuben abused his position, such as it is. But Marianne discovered it, and it won’t go anywhere. Don’t worry. Everything will be all right.”

Dawn gave a rather soggy giggle hearing her father echo what Sunny kept telling her, then took a deep breath and sat up straighter. “It’s just one bloat-brained, arrogant little idiot. He’ll regret it.”

With a tilt of his head, Dagda answered, “We’ll have to wait out what the other testimonies look like, to see if Victor did the same thing.” His brow creased, and he looked off to the side. “It seems very unlikely… but then, I wouldn’t have thought Reuben would do something like this, either.” Looking back at Dawn, he smiled, though the sadness underlying it was hard to miss. “We’ll see.”

“Yeah. Right. Just let me get through this, then we can take the next step.”

“My brave little girl.”

Dawn squeezed his hand and smiled. When she returned to reading, her eyes narrowed, and her chin jutted out. Oh no, Reuben would not get away with this.

*** Dawn found Marianne’s room deserted. Had she gone ahead alone? No, Dawn had the folder with the records of Sunny’s testimony, so that didn’t make sense. She rounded the dark rose bed and looked out of the window, but couldn’t see a trace of her, either. Dawn bit her lip and wondered where to look. Or whom to ask. Marianne’s pixies were gone, too. Maybe Dawn’s would have an idea.

“Freesia? Freesia, are you there? I’m looking for—” Cradling papers in her arms, Dawn pushed open the door to her room with her shoulder. Freesia, a light pink pixie in Dawn’s service, approached her, finger to her lips giving a very quiet “shhh!”

With a tiny chuckle, Dawn sagged in relief when she saw Marianne there, her clothes making a dark blotch on the light yellow bed. Dawn was tempted to let her sleep, but imagining her sister’s reaction when she found out it dissuaded her. Besides, she could do with some moral support when meeting Sunny again.

* * *

The main reason why Dagda had agreed to let his daughters talk to Sunny, without taking a guard or three, was that the princesses had visited the elf village often enough in the past that it would cause less of a stir.

It did not mean “no stir”, since those elves that had been drafted into the impromptu army last night had spread news of events, and there were quite a few people out, busy with taking down the stalls and ferris wheel of the interrupted celebration. By the time the two fairies landed on one of the elevated walkways, Marianne less elegant than usual, there had been hellos, and at least one “congratulations on finding love!”, as well as a few scowls and shaking heads. Marianne pretended she didn’t notice and let Dawn go ahead of her.

Sunny lived in a house at the higher level of the village. It had been in the family for a while, and now was the home of his sister and her husband and daughter, but they had room for him when he decided to move from the smaller settlement their parents lived in. So it was hardly surprising when an elf older and taller than Sunny, sporting orange sideburns, opened the door. Dawn greeted him brightly. “Hello Ginger! How are you?”

“Fine, fine. I guess you want Sunny?”

“Ah, yes, we need to talk to him. Can we come in? I mean, we could go elsewhere if it’s any trouble, of course.”

Ginger gave her a look, spared another for Marianne, who looked flat-lipped, pale, and ill-tempered, and stepped aside to let them in.

They used to fit in better when they were younger. At least there was no corridor between them and the main room of the house.

“Rain and Parsley went for the market. I need to get going, too, so you should have some time to… whatever.” He shook his head and looked at Dawn, who was making herself comfortable sitting on the ground at a far too small table. “Your Highness, I’m very sorry. We had no idea what he had in mind.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. It all turned out for the best.” She waved her fingers and smiled, but Marianne knew her well enough to catch the slight shift in her stance, a tell she was not as comfortable as she pretended.

But she did come to her sister’s support. “No harm done to either of us, Roland’s scheme exposed, and we’re finally opening communications with the Dark Forest.” That last thought brought a genuine smile on her face. She had left that idea dead for a naive dream, a flower wilted together with her bridal flower crown, but now there was a start to it.

“Well, if you say so…”

“We do need some things straightened out.”

After a noncommittal hum, Ginger went over the few steps to the stairs and yelled, “Sunny! Didn’t you hear visitors come in? They’re here for you!”

There was sound of moving upstairs, and a quiet “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

By the time Sunny peered down in the main room, Ginger had left. The small elf’s face was wide-eyed and scared, relaxing a little when he saw only Dawn and Marianne. Still, he walked down the stairs slowly, hiding his hands behind his back.

“Good morning? What can I do for you?”

“You can come here and give me a hug.” Dawn spread her arms.

Sunny’s face brightened and he embraced her. They kept a hand on each other’s back when they parted. “But there’s a reason you’re here, isn’t there?”

He looked from Dawn to Marianne. Dawn looked at her sister, too.

Marianne took a breath, and the lead. “Sunny, did you read what Victor wrote down you said?”

“Uh, no? Should I have? That… that would have taken a long time.” He wouldn’t be able to read at all if Dawn hadn’t taught him, and he had never become good at it.

“When we read what we were supposed to have reported, it was all twisted, trying to shift blame away from Roland, to you.” Sunny gasped, but Marianne went on, hoping to stave off him panicking. “But we caught it. However, we’d still like to go over everything, because we need to make sure it’s just the one clerk pushing his personal view, and not a bigger… thing.”

“Oh.” Sunny’s shoulders and eartips hung low, his eyes were big and scared. “Right. What do you need from me?”

Marianne and Dawn took turns reading out what Victor had written down about Sunny’s testimony, the worst Sunny could come up with being, “Not my words, but the gist seems right.”

Dawn sagged where she was sitting with relief. “So it’s really just Reuben.”

“Hopefully.” Marianne’s face was still drawn and pale

“Marianne? Are you all right?” Sunny worried.

“I’m tired. I’m tired. And I need some time to, to digest this.” She covered her eyes with a hand and shook her head. “How could you? Did Roland have to try hard, or did he just catch you at an opportune moment?”

Dawn scooted around the table to lay an arm around Marianne’s shoulders.

Sunny tugged at the wrappings around his fingerless gloves. “The latter, I guess. I was watching Dawn dance at the ball through the cracked door and he spotted me. It was just after you had run him out…”

“But why were you watching me secretly? You could have stayed for the ball.”

“Oh Dawn. An elf at the ball? It’s weird enough that I was there at all, I couldn’t have stayed for the whole thing. Should I have asked you for a dance?” He took a shaky breath, eyes shining wet. “I guess that’s it, I was afraid you’d blow me off. Seeing you happy is wonderful. You fill the world with light and warmth, like a sliver of sun. But right then I was also sad that I couldn’t be there with you. And… your first ball. It was your first… You’d spend more and more time with your obligations as a princess. I couldn’t be part of that world. Even if you… you two would… how many would not accept me?”

The younger princess was hugging herself, one hand raised to cover her mouth, watching Sunny wide-eyed.

He took a bracing breath, and tried to drag them all out of this stupid hole he’d dug. “Anyway, then Roland talked to me, and he broke out in tears over being unhappily in love with Marianne.”

Marianne snorted. “Yeah, right. He’s a liar the way you are a singer. He played you like a fiddle. So you were going to help him put me under a spell.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. But you weren’t happy either. Not the way you were when you were in love with him. Don’t get me wrong, I shouldn’t have, he shouldn’t have… Just trying to spell out what I think I thought. A story with a happy ending, everybody together with someone they loved.”

“I don’t think you really understand, Sunny.” Dawn’s brow wrinkled with a sad little frown. “Yes, having a crush feels good, even when it’s the potion. But it’s forced. I mean, I never would have fallen for the Bog King naturally.”

For a second, Sunny wanted to reply with something starting with “but”, but thought better of it. “I just couldn’t imagine… An elf falling for a fairy is strange enough, but who’d believe a fairy falling in love with an elf.”

“Sunny, you’re impossible. I love you. I guess I never had a crush on you, but I love you, and that’s way more. And I didn’t know that. Why didn’t anyone tell me? In the stories and gossip it is all about heartthrobbing and prickles in your stomach and drowning in somebody’s eyes and ARGH!” She threw up her hands, and completely missed how Marianne was smirking at her outburst. “And with that stupid love potion plot, now we’ll never know if I’d realised I love you if you’d just talked to me.” She calmed down, and stuck out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout. “But I do. You get it?”

“I… uh. I wasn’t sure if I’d dreamed that part.”

“You didn’t.” Dawn’s voice still was more resolute than usual, but not unfriendly.

“Oh, good. Good. Um.” He looked at Marianne shyly. “I really thought Roland loved you…”

“Yeah. I… Just be yourself. I’ll get over it. But, Sunny… They say elves are very trusting, right?”

“Yes,” Sunny admitted with a roll of his eyes.

“You need to be more careful whom you trust. Because if you marry into the royal family, sooner or later people will try to manipulate you for their interests.”

“I… oh.” Sunny looked absolutely thunderstruck. He had never thought that far.

Dawn leaned across the table and pointed at him, chin jutting out fiercely for a moment. Then her expression softened to a smile, and she started singing. “ _Don’t worry about a thing. Cause every little thing will be all right. Don’t worry_ —”

Sunny broke out in giggles, and Dawn surged forward with a flap of wings that grazed the ceiling to hug him. “We’ll figure it out.”

Marianne made to get up. “All right. I’ll see about setting someone else to review the testimonies of the others, just to be sure. Oh, is Pare all right?”

“I haven’t seen him since we left the Dark Forest,” Sunny answered. “Rain said he asked to borrow a blanket and left again.”

“Oh, well.” In company of Lizzie, he would be safe… as long as Lizzie liked him, and not as a snack. After Marianne had ducked out of the door, she called back, “You two behave!”

The door closed on Sunny singing.

 _When you’re smilin’, when you’re smilin’_ _The whole world smiles with you_ _When you’re laughin’, oh when you’re laughin’_ _The sun comes shinin’ through_ _Keep on smilin’, ‘cause when you’re smilin’_ _The whole world smiles with you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song at the end was written by Mark Fisher, Joe Goodwin und Larry Shay


	6. Investigations

When Marianne entered the Fairy Palace through the official entrance, she found Terence keeping the guard company. It was impossible to mistake the man with his narrow, rainbow-coloured iridescent wings for anyone else. Despite being born with flamboyant looks, he had a quiet, almost shy demeanor. A few years’ Marianne’s senior, about of an age with Reuben, he had gained the position as King Dagda’s personal aide two years ago. Marianne’s stomach lurched when he looked at her and straightened up a little more, approaching to greet her. The thought that the vetting for his job was more rigorous than for a regular clerk position calmed her somewhat.

Terence bowed, keeping hold of a thick ledger he had tucked under his arm. “Your royal highness, I have been put in charge of the practical side of the investigation in Reuben’s suspicious activities. The King requests that you oversee the matter and report to him.”

“All right.” After the briefest consideration, she signalled him to follow her. There was a salon between her and Dawn’s rooms that they shared; it would serve for an initial talk. When they arrived, Marianne gestured for Terence to take a seat at the table closest to the window, for light. The window was a tall, narrow slit, carved on the inside but rough and uneven on the outside, and though it was wider it seemed less bright than the gilded cracks in Dawn’s room.

With a solid door between them and the rest of the castle, Marianne could finally start. “Sunny found nothing wrong with the records of his testimony, so we can hope it has all been Reuben’s work alone. I want to have any other records checked, too, though.”

“That would be all elves and fairies that were present.” He opened the ledger and pulled out a list. “That’s a lot of work, though their testimonies should be shorter, just about the night of the… incident.”

Marianne ignored the curious look he gave her, because he broke it off almost immediately. “Well, at least we’ll be two. Or more, if you can recommend reliable people. What else is there to do? Besides going through Reuben’s belongings to look for anything related?”

“If he had any intelligence, he would have burned anything incriminating.”

Marianne sneered. “If he had any intelligence, he would not have assumed I would never read or hear what he wrote down I supposedly said.”

“A point.”

“Where is he now, anyway?”

“Under arrest in the lower levels, Ma’am. He had some time he may have used to hide or destroy evidence, if any exists, but the king ordered him removed from his quarters right after you informed him of your discovery.”

“Ah, good.” A knot between Marianne’s shoulder blades loosened at that proof that her father was taking her seriously now.

Terence pushed the list of witnesses across the table; most names were marked as already questioned, but some remained. The two of them continued planning their further actions.

* * *

The next morning, by unspoken agreement, the royal family talked about nothing unpleasant or serious until everybody had finished breakfast. Marianne felt almost normal again, having found a full night’s sleep with help of melissa and hops tea.

As soon as King Dagda pushed away his plate of honey scones and concentrated on the tea, though, Dawn leaned forward. “Are there any news?”

“Not much.” Marianne turned from Dawn to their father. “None of Victor’s records we checked yesterday were suspicious. Terence had any and all papers removed from Reuben’s quarters and we started someone going through them, looking for something like letters from Roland.” She frowned and sipped her jasmine tea. “Terence has been talking to Reuben’s colleagues, asking about any suspicious behaviour lately, but unless he got something last night after our last meeting, nothing promising. Reuben is a rather private person, it seems.”

Dawn gave a thoughtful hum. “He doesn’t have family here? Or a sweetheart?”

“Doesn’t seem so on the latter. And no on the former. He came here from Languid Lake.”

“Oh, that is quite a ways away.” Languid Lake was part of the northern border of the Fair Fields proper, on its northern shore walled in by unclaimed mountains. The Lake was southeast of the Green Glen, which was nominally part of the fairy kingdom, but practically independent. It was also where Roland’s family came from.

“What are you thinking?” Marianne asked. Only then did Dawn notice she’d been staring off at, or through, the wall and chewing her lip.

“Ah, just daydreaming about having a romantic picnic with Sunny.” 

Marianne snorted a chuckle. Dawn was blushing, but her sister suspected it was from lying rather than the reason she pretended. But whatever.

In his mind, Dagda had been going through people from Languid Lake who were at the Palace or otherwise nearby right now, and finally asked, “Dawn, aren’t you friends with Patricia Lake?”

“Patricia? Oh yes, she’s fun to talk to.”

“Maybe you could ask her if she knows anything about Reuben, or his family.”

Dawn sat up with a start. “Me? Oh, sure, I’d love to help.”

Marianne thought she looked less than thrilled. Before things could get any more awkward, she got up. “Well, I’m meeting with Terence. Unless something really interesting happens, I’ll fill you in tomorrow at the same time again?”

Dagda nodded.

“And if you find something out,” Marianne told Dawn, “You tell me, OK?”

“OK!” There was the enthusiasm! Dawn fluttered, rudely, over the table, and hugged her sister. “I’m glad I can help. Or try to help.”

“I’m glad, too.”

On Dagda’s face a smile bloomed, seeing both of his daughters happy. In Marianne’s case, it had been way too long.

* * *

Dawn flitted through the corridors of the Palace, shaking off her feeling of disappointment. She had thought talking to Patricia was an original idea and a chance to maybe surprise Marianne with helpful information. But then her father had thought of it, too. Oh, well, no reason to slack. Patricia was not in her room nor in Aranea’s workshop where she liked to hang out and learn about sewing, or just admire Aranea’s works, so Dawn had to find her, of arrange for meeting her. After a quick detour to her own room to fetch a basket with blossoms, leaves, and ribbons, Dawn made for the centre of the palace. Her three pixies followed.

She entered the Great Hall through one of the window-doors in the wall opposite the formal entrance. With the sky outside overcast, the cracks and mirrors in the ceiling still left the place wrapped in comfortable gloom broken by light reflections and refractions from the artificial streams along the edges of the hall. The streams’ slow flow created barely audible undertones to the brighter sound of the fountain in the centre. Just as Dawn arrived from higher up, two servants left close to ground level, chatting with each other, carrying vessels of water. Nearly all of the water used in the Palace was fetched here, and while some, like King Dagda, relied on their servants, many of the younger nobles liked to drop by now and then for a fresh, cool drink, and a chat with whoever else was present.

Dawn settled on the wide edge of the fountain and rummaged through her supplies. “So, what shall we make? A matching boutonniere and corsage for Marianne and Boggy-Woggy? Or it might be about time to make a little gift for Sunny.” 

Freesia picked out a bright yellow ribbon and handed it to Dawn. “Sunny it is.”

Patricia was likely to show up. And besides, she wasn’t the only source of gossip, which was its own kind of information.

* * *

After a morning spent talking to Terence and poring over Reuben’s correspondence (which left Marianne feeling awkward for poking in someone’s private affairs even if they were thoroughly mundane, boring, and non-incriminating), Marianne needed to stretch her wings. The grey-and-white marbled cloud cover softened the world outside, too, leaving no hard shadows. Flying up from the entrance of the palace, straining her wings and back to gain height as fast as possible to feel the satisfying burn of exertion, she left her duties and worries behind for a few scant moments. She caught the breeze at the apex of her flight and did her best to keep herself in one spot despite of it. The Dark Forest was a shadow in the east, its leaves rippling similar to but yet different from the grasses of the Fields. It would not take long to fly there and ask how they were progressing, an hour there, an hour back…

After a sigh, Marianne flapped her wings once to turn herself over, then folded them back to dive, dive, dive, arms extended, wind whipping her hair and whistling in her ears, wings pulling on her back when she snapped them open to catch herself. She had duties here, and if she went to visit Bog, she wanted to have more than a few minutes to talk to him. But she could take the time to write him a letter. Allowing her mind to wander while she made her way back to her salon-turned-office, she had an idea how to, hopefully, make that message doubly useful.

After composing a short letter, Marianne went out again to look for Sunny. He was not at home, but Rain told her where to find him. He had joined Tymbal, trying to assist the older elf and his apprentice in fixing the instruments damaged by the goblins. Sunny had no particular skills in that area, being gifted of voice instead of crafts, and thus was limited to fetching and holding, but at least Tymbal had not sent him away. The craftsman had not seemed disappointed when the princess Marianne had requested Sunny do her a favour, though.

Sunny left the workshop, which was old and built very low, too uncomfortable for a fairy to fit in. “What can I do?”

Marianne, sitting against the clay-washed outside wall of the elf building cross-legged, held a sealed envelope out to Sunny. “Take this to the Bog King.”

“What?!” Sunny had extended his hand automatically, but jumped back as if it burned. “Why? Why me? He hates me!”

Marianne leaned forward, and said in a low voice. “Because I hope being useful to us will get you on his good side. Or at least away from his bad side.”

“Marianne, I don’t think I’d survive just walking into the Dark Forest again, what with being on his bad side right now.”

“You won’t sneak in, but pass through the post. WE agreed to allow messenges. You will be sent by me, and I need you to ask if you should wait for a reply.”

Sunny was still cringing. “But why me? I’d love to help out, but seems to me like I’m the worst choice?”

Marianne put one hand on Sunny’s shoulder, pulling him closer as she lowered her voice. “Listen. You need all the goodwill you can get. If Roland is brought in and put on trial… you remember my father mentioned conspiracy against the Throne? You were involved in that. If Bog can come to a point where he doesn’t hold a grudge because you broke into his castle, well, that’s one complaint less against you.”

Listening, Sunny turned grey. Marianne could feel him trembling, but he pulled himself up and took the letter. “OK. OK. I. Um. I hope this works. Thanks for thinking of that.”

“Dawn would be so heartbroken if you were imprisoned for life.” Marianne gave him a very crooked smile.

“Yeah. Yeah well. I’d better get going.” By the time Marianne lost sight of him, he was running.

* * *

The next time Marianne saw Dawn, outside near the castle, Dawn flew at her like an arrow. She ended up wrapped around Marianne, necessiating them both to land.

“Hi!” she said, too brightly.

“Hi sis. You got something?”

“Yes! Patricia barely remembered him until I described his wings, and then she remembered this quiet, shy nerd tutoring some young folks in penmanship and such. And guess what? He got pretty friendly with the Pond family.”

“That could be something…” The Pond brothers, Howard, Lewis, and David, were Rolands cronies and accomplices. “Reuben might have worked on a ‘the friend of a friend is my friend’ basis. Or wanted the trio kept out of trouble.”

“Or something, yeah. Good thing Patricia is still talking to me.”

Marianne blinked in surprise. “Why wouldn’t she?”

Dawn bit her lip, and her shoulders fell for a moment before she drew on irritation to straighten up again. “Welllll, apparently someone who falls in love with an elf is too weird for some people.” 

The crack in Dawn’s voice at the end caused a stab of sympathy in Marianne’s heart. She herself had chosen to be different, expecting the consequences, but Dawn had just stumbled into it. She put an arm around her little sisters’ shoulders and sequeezed. “Oh Dawn. Don’t worry. They’ll get used to it.” Her smile grew an edge. “They’ll have to get used to it.” In the face of Dawn’s worried, doubtful look, she had to be honest. “And if not, well, you’ll see who your friends are.” 

The sisters fell into a fierce hug; a wordless promise to stick together no matter what.

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess.” Dawn clung to Marianne, hoping her warmth would scare away the memories of the unfamiliar cool treatment she had received.

* * *

The first few familiar faces were friendly as ever. Then came a pair who made more reserved greetings than usual, and after one sat down nearly on the other side of the fountain, the other pulled them away, out of the hall. Dawn wondered if they thought she needed space to herself after the whole kidnapping thing, or something.

One or two people seemed almost morbidly curious about what the effect of the love potion had felt like, particularly the part with falling in love with a goblin. “Wasn’t it gross?”

Dawn nearly crushed a calendula petal in anger as she shot that down with, “Well, he didn’t behave anywhere near as vile as Roland did.” It seemed to cause confusion, but at least it served to steering that conversation to an end.

Some of the people giving her a berth gossipped among themselves, and eventually Dawn could piece something together which was entirely more nasty than she had expected. “Elf”. “Perverted”. “How long have they…” “At least Marianne’s going for a king.”

Girls she had considered friends. Guys who had flirted with her, but now barely managed being polite. She would have to figure out whom she could trust. She would have to try to shield Sunny from trouble; he already had enough of that, self-inflicted, he didn’t need this nonsense. She didn’t need this nonsense, either, but she was a princess.

The worst part was that Dawn didn’t feel odd. Marianne putting on wild makeup and picking up sword training had made herself weird, but Dawn just had found love. Everyone - well, everyone but Marianne in the last year - always said the most important thing in the world was finding your one true love, so why did it suddenly matter with whom?

Her pixies sensed that she was upset and tried to calm her. Partly for their sake, but mostly in case anybody else came into the hall and saw her, Dawn took a deep breath. She stared at the half-finished boutonniere, yellow and orange and red, warm colours full of life for her Sunny, until her hands stopped trembling.

Well. She would listen very carefully to what people said. And when she had heard enough, she’d tell them exactly what she thought of their nonsense.

* * *

Marianne reported the findings - confirmation that Victor had not not manipulated any records, and Dawn’s news about the Pond family connection - to her father, who confirmed Reuben’s arrest. “He will be held until such time as Roland and the Pond cousins are put on trial, to keep him from aiding them in any way.”

Marianne sighed. “I hope they will be caught. If they fled to the end of the world and stayed there, that’d be something at least, but…” She hesitated giving away and admitting a weakness, but looked at her father after all and went on, “I think I’d always worry about Roland coming back with some new scheme.”

Dagda took her hands into his. “You’re right. He tried to use trickery and magic trying to gain the throne. And even if we couldn’t prove it… he threatened Dawn with a weapon, yes?”

“He put his sword near her throat.”

“He does not deserve to get away.”

“But sometimes, people get what they don’t deserve.” Good or bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want a better idea what Terence's wings look like, look up "princely tiger moth" ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Comments appreciated, including constructive criticism or typo-spotting.


End file.
